Mystikal 'Still Smokin'' The life [unverified] and rent free I never let nothin' live on my mind I gotta grind (Grind) Shine and fight for my grandma And don't
're hittin' it Now grind, grind, get you some big money And don't forget about me when you spendin' it But if you ain't gonna pay don't be screamin'
don't know me Nah, I ain't your homie If your name ain't M, Ferrari or Tony I like my wheel chromey My Bentley my Rolly My Magnum my Forty South Jamaica
don 't know me Nah I ain't your homie If your name aint Em, Ferrari or Tony I like my wheel chromey My Bentley my Rolly My Magnum my forty South Jamaica
' to block my shine Don't you know you never will stop my grind? In a drop-top flyin' like I don't got time Got e'rybody surprised that I won't drop dimes
watch your body move when you're ridin' on top On top, on top, on top, eh I like to watch your body move when you're ridin' on top On top, on top, on
on my fresh tee You don't impress me, stop that Cannon 'Cause you could get rocked, when I pop that Cannon Pop that Cannon, pop that Cannon Pop that Cannon, pop
fuck something [Verse 1] Check it You lookin dope in your Dolce Gabbana boots Ma there ain't nuthin I can't do, huh The motion's in the oceans My dick
imagine if my hands was on work, I don't know [Chorus: 50 Cent] Nah nigga I don't know, I don't know who got you I don't know who stabbed you, I don't
if my hands was on work, I don't know [chorus - Biggie Sound] Nah nigga I don't know, I don't know who got you I don't know who stabbed you, I don't
my hands was on work, I don't know Nah nigga I don't know, I don't know who got you I don't know who stabbed you, I don't know who shot you I don't
on it Ladies let ?im check up on it Watch it while he check up on it Dip it, pop it, twork it, stop it, check on me tonight If you got flaunt it, boy
many M C's must get dissed For hatin' on that mvp new draft pick? Don't it look like hundred moons on my wrist? I'm sorry I'm the glitter that yo girl
got handsome, but my flow is still ugly Turn the treble out the track and I'll jet The lines in my rhyme is longer than Ikea I stay on my grind, but
fuckin' up my liver Shots from the cameras on my niggas Girlfriend drunk so I'll jump around wit her I step inside, you're quiet like a mime, nigga My
hoes Bump N Grind to my rhymes Now it ain't a nigga who could hang Or pop yang, about a motherfuckin' thang And uh, fuck any bitch who can't hang I'
when you think, just think, nah don't involve him Hang up when you callin', caller ID all 'em If it's your number I don't answer, ain't no sense in
All I got is my ball and my words My momma, my daddy, my children, my gun and my herb Shit, they got a lot of killers, I know But ain't too many gon'